


That Don't Make You No Lamb

by Thistlerose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Engagement, F/M, French Characters, Hurt/Comfort, Jossed, Scars, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You run to the wolf in me.  That don't make you no lamb."  Written  in 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Don't Make You No Lamb

It happens when they go out together. She and Bill will be walking down a street, or they will be browsing one of the London boutiques that Fleur likes, or they will be sitting together at an outdoor café, sharing a frosted drink or a slice of cake, and someone – some man passing them on the street or in the shop, or some waiter or diner – will ogle Fleur.

Innocent ogling. Fleur knows that these men can't help themselves. She is a quarter Veela, and they are completely human, completely male, and therefore completely susceptible to her charms. She does not try to attract them. When she notices a man staring at her, his mouth hanging open, she tosses her silvery blond hair disdainfully, gazes at Bill, and nonchalantly flashes her antique gold and diamond engagement ring. 

When Bill notices, he grabs her by the waist and all but crushes her against him, or he seizes her hand and squeezes it until the ring digs into her skin. Once, when they were looking at flowers in Diagon Alley, someone – she never saw whom – whistled at her. Bill grabbed her at once, causing her to drop the vase of calla lilies – which shattered at her feet – and kissed her passionately, in front of everyone in the shop. The kiss didn't bother Fleur, but some of the glass fragments cut her skin. When Bill finally released her, she grabbed the fallen calla lilies, threw them at him, and stalked out of the shop.

Fleur understands. She has met vainer men than Bill Weasley, but he had been proud of his good looks, had sometimes used them to his advantage, and is aware of the fact that it was his looks that had first attracted Fleur. She does not blame him for being unhappy about his scars. They are ugly.

But Bill is not ugly, Fleur thinks, and never will be. His eyes are still the color of cinnamon bark, and they still light up like lanterns when she whispers to him in French. His lips are still full and soft, and wonderful to kiss. His body is still long and sinewy like a lynx's. His hands are still warm and strong on her body.

The scars, she insists, are signs that he fought bravely in battle, and survived.

The scars, he tells her, are signs that he was attacked and infected by a werewolf. They are curse scars, so they can't be removed or concealed. Every witch and wizard who sees them will know…

And what if they do? Fleur contests hotly. I love you. Who cares what anyone else thinks?

To this, Bill usually has little to say. He answers her with a kiss or a caress, and snarls at the next person who looks at him inquisitively.

 

A week before their wedding, Fleur decides to teach Bill a lesson. Bill has been on edge for the past couple of days. Some of Fleur's friends from Beauxbatons have come north and are staying in Ottery Saint-Catchpole's one hotel. They've been to the Burrow a few times to visit Fleur and to help with the decorations. One of them, Claude, whom Fleur has known since her third year at school, is quite handsome. Judging by the way Bill acts around Claude, Fleur suspects that her fiancé would be happier if her school friend were much older, much younger, a relative, female, or exceptionally unattractive.

Because Claude is none of those things, and because she hates seeing Bill this way, Fleur plans a sneak attack. After her friends have gone back to their hotel, after the rest of the Weasleys have gone to bed, Fleur changes outfits and Apparates to Bill's bedroom.

It's dark, and she bumps into Bill's desk chair as she tries to make her way across the floor. She swears in French and Bill laughs from the direction of the bed. So much for her sneak attack.

Bill says as Fleur joins him in bed, "You're as clumsy as Tonks."

Fleur lifts her chin. She knows that Bill and his family think highly of the woman Auror, but she does not enjoy the comparison. Tonks is nice, but she has no fashion sense at all. Still… "We 'ave something in common, me and zat Tonks," she admits. She is sitting cross-legged beside Bill. All he can see of her, she knows, is her cascade of pale hair.

"How's that?" Bill asks.

Fleur unfolds her legs and stretches them out in front of her, pointing and flexing her toes, trying to decide which position Bill will find most flattering. She bends one knee and leans back against her elbows. Her belly, which is perfectly flat, looks gracefully concave like this, and her breasts look bigger than they actually are.

"How's that?" Bill says again, amusement in his voice. "What've you and Tonks got in common?"

"We are both in love," replies Fleur, "with stubborn men with heads of peegs."

Bill snorts. "Pig-headed? Come on. Everyone says I'm the easiest going of the lot."

"In private, yes," says Fleur. "In publeec? No. In publeec you act like a silly, jealous boy, not like a man who fought with Death Eaters."

There is a moment of silence. Then Bill says, his voice heavy, "You're going to tell me not to feel rotten when some bloke looks at us and thinks, 'How the fuck did a monster like him pull a beauty like her?' You're going to sit in the dark and tell me you'd have given a shite about me if I'd looked like this the first time we met?"

Fleur ignores the petulance. "No," she says, despite the fact that the latter is probably true. "I am going to turn on zee light and show you. _Lumos,_ " she murmurs, and the wand at her side ignites. 

Now Bill can see all of her, not just the silken fall of hair. He can see the long, ivory length of her, from the rosy soles of her feet to the slim gold eyebrows cocked over deep, sapphire eyes. He can see that she is wearing a thong of the most delicate white lace, and a matching bra. He can obviously see her nipples, straining against the lace, because he reaches out to touch one with his fingertip.

Fleur clasps Bill's wrist and holds his hand against her breasts. "Look at me," she says, and his gaze rises to meet hers. " _Je t'aime_. I love you. Now, I will show you."

They have not made love very often since the attack, and when they did, it was in the dark because Bill preferred it that way. He doesn't seem happy about the light, but Fleur looks away from his frown to the waistband of his cotton pajama bottoms. Rising to her knees, she leans over Bill's legs and toys kittenishly with the drawstring.

"Fleur…"

"Shh," she instructs. When the knot comes loose she releases the string and starts to slide the pajama bottoms down over Bill's narrow hips. 

"Fleur," he says again, but she shakes her head. Bill is not hard yet, so she takes him between her hands and begins to stroke him.

Bill grunts and grabs his own wand, which is lying on the bedside table. For an irrational moment, Fleur thinks that he means to hex her. But then he points his wand at the door and mutters the Imperturbability Charm.

_Oh,_ Fleur thinks, daintily drumming her fingertips over the tip of his cock. _Yes. Good idea._

Bill drops his wand onto the bedside table and flops back against the pillows. He watches Fleur. In the wandlight his scars look like deep gouges in his flesh. His breath quickens as his cock stiffens in Fleur's hands. His pants become a groan when she lowers her mouth to his erection and closes her lips around the head.

She laps at him for a few moments, enjoying the masculine smell of him and the way his body quivers. She could do this until he comes in her mouth, but by now she is deeply aroused, too, and wants some satisfaction of her own.

So she releases him slowly and sits back. Reaching around behind her, she unhooks her bra and lets it fall away from her. Then she slides her panties down her legs and over her feet. Next time, she thinks, she will have Bill remove them with his teeth.

Now she straddles his waist. His cock nudges the cleft between her buttocks. He reaches for her and she lets him catch her by the waist and pull her close. His mouth seeks hers, but she leans away from him, laughing, and flicks her tongue against his chin.

"Fleur." This time when he says her name it comes out of him like a prayer. While she licks his scars, as tenderly as if she were a mother cat and he her kitten, he reaches between their bodies and cups her breasts. 

She hisses with pleasure – his callused palms and fingerpads feel so good against her taut, sensitized nipples – and she begins to move against him languorously, pushing back against his cock, forward against his belly so he can feel the wet heat of her.

" _A mes yeux, tu es beau_ ," she whispers as she continues to lick him. "Do you understand?"

But he doesn't, of course, and he tells her that he doesn't. But that is all right. He will understand. She lifts her head and sees the raw need in his eyes and in the pull of his lips.

Still, she is not prepared when he lets go of her breasts, takes her by the wrists, and flips her onto her back. He rolls on top of her and pushes his lips against hers. _Yes,_ she thinks, spreading her legs. 

" _Je t'aime_ ," he murmurs against her lips, but his accent is so atrocious that he butchers the words and she laughs. Her laughter cuts off abruptly when he slides into her. There is no warning, but she is so slick and hot and _ready_ that she does not need one. 

Fleur arches against the bed, throws her head back, and sucks at the air. She is so greedy now, for him, for everything that tastes and smells of him. He grips her wrists tightly and moves in and out of her, growling. Fierceness in bed is a wolfish trait that Remus Lupin was apparently too polite to mention. Fleur does not mind it at all.

She growls back at him and bucks her hips to meet his thrusts because she is not a flower, not a lamb, not anything that can be broken by loving. _I am your mate. We are together. There is nothing about you that I do not find beautiful._

When he comes, his shout sounds almost like a bark, but Fleur only half-hears it. Her own orgasm is hurtling through her and she is crying out, tossing her hair so that it falls over them like a silken scarf, binding them.

Bill continues to thrust, even after they have quieted. Fleur strokes his scars and his smile. The light from her wand fills his eyes with amber sparks.

"You are beautiful," he says softly. "Not just your face or your body. When I think about losing you to someone else—"

She stops his lips with her fingertip. "You will not. Ever."

Bill kisses her fingertip. "Beautiful."

" _A mes yeux,_ " says Fleur. "In my eyes, so are you."

08/25/05


End file.
